31 March 2004

This morning

I walked to the train station as usual. But on the way, I approached the local supermarket loading dock in the optimistic sunshine. The roller door was open by about half a foot and at the very moment I drew near, about twenty tomatoes rolled out from under the door towards the street. They traced a perfect parabola towards the curb, and then the downhill slope of the road. They rolled red and ripe, while a scrum of schools boys scuffed past on the opposite side of the road and laughed. No-one picked up the perfect fruit that had no visible owner, but a few of us office drones saw the colour and motion and smiled to ourselves.

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